Stranger
by strider7901
Summary: Aragorn meets a stranger who gives him clues of his future during his visit in Bree. Set in Fellowship of the Ring


Disclaimer: I don't own these wonderful characters but I'll put them back when I'm done.  
  
-=-=-=-=-=-  
  
Stranger  
  
-=-=-=-=-=-  
  
Aragorn, king of future Gondor, sits plainly in a black, dirty cloak, worn and abused of the climate's weather. He stretches unnoticeably in his seat as he continues to watch the men from Bree, drinking ales and other sorts of alcohol beverages recently bought from Barliman Butterbur, owner of The Prancing Pony.  
  
Outside the windows of the inn was a cold, dark, rainy atmosphere. The wet invited far travelers to come in The Prancing Pony to stay and keep warm for the night as darkness in the air lured strange evil from the woods, searching for death.  
  
Aragorn, known as Strider to the town of Bree, positioned himself comfortably in his seat inside, waiting for Gandalf's newcomers. He moved his head slightly to the right watching silently and quietly as dark shadows covered the man. Then, he discovered a figure, sitting alone across the room, watching him. He gazed at the person then realized that it was a ranger he has never seen before. The stranger pulled its dark green sleeve and looked at its wrist, checking the time before moving towards him.  
  
Its black hood covered the person's face well making it hard to see who it was. Aragorn studied the creature as it walked its way smoothly passed the drunks and waiters toward the dark end of the room and sat next to him. Then casually rested there ankle on its knee, the mud dripping from there black boot to the floor.  
  
Strider slyly moved his hand toward his sword, cautiously finding his hilt not looking at the figure.  
  
"Don't be afraid." It said seeming to read Aragorn's tense movements.  
  
"What do you want?" He whispered in a low tone to the ranger, still watching the commotion of the room.  
  
"I want nothing but to help you." The voice whispered back.  
  
He exhaled then noticed the voice was of a woman. Slightly confused, he reached out and pulled the hood down, finding the unreadable creatures a girl no older than seventeen of dark-brown hair, and a clear, smooth face that brightened of hazel eyes. "Who are you?" He asked, studying her.  
  
"It does not matter...but I must tell you to be careful."  
  
"Of what?"  
  
"The future."  
  
Aragorn looks around making sure no one saw them, then turned back facing her and asked, "You know of Gandalf?"  
  
She smiled and shook her head, cracking a small laugh. "Not only do I know of Gandalf, but of you and of your path ahead."  
  
He strokes his beard, trying to understand the girl's words. "I apologize, but I do not know of you."  
  
"Good, let's keep it that way." She said, turning serious. "But you must be aware that you won't be doing a simple task of Gandalf's request." She said, leaning towards him over the old rounded table.  
  
He remains silent and continues to listen to her.  
  
"You must be aware of the danger's...there is another quest. A quest not only involving Gandalf and the hobbits...but you."  
  
Strider's forehead wrinkles, not wanting to listen to her anymore. "She has gone mad." He thinks to himself staring at her. "How did you find this out?"  
  
She ignores his question and finishing herself, "You will be tested many times Estel...to become king."  
  
His eyes slightly widen but keeps a straight face, asking "Why do you want to help me?"  
  
Her full red lips smile again and kiss his rough cheek, whispering in his ear "Because in this story, you matter to Gondor." Then moves away from him and leaves the table to himself when just then four small hobbits entered the inn, dripping wet from the rain.  
  
He snorts and relaxes again as they moved toward Mr. Butterbur. Aragorn finds his pipe on the table and picks it up slowly. There lying plainly by the candle next to him, he discovers a new item, a book. "Probably left by the girl." He thinks then places the pipe back and lifts the thick book looking at the cover The Lord of the Rings by: JRR Tolkien.  
  
He opens it and quickly runs his dirty fingers over the pages, finding it was in the language of the Westron. He looks up from the heavy book and tries to find the girl, but was no where in sight.  
  
The man hidden from view sighs of confusion and puts it back on the table, easily ignoring the crazy-minded girl's literature, and goes back watching Frodo drink nervously from a mug with the rest of the hobbits in the shadows of The Prancing Pony. 


End file.
